


Il Duce

by olympians



Series: Mafia!!! On Ice [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, mafia! au, off-screen violence, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympians/pseuds/olympians
Summary: " There's no other way to say "Congratulations, you've made it as a mafia boss!" quite as powerfully as getting an assassin sent after you by a fellow boss, Yuuri thought as he peered down through his lashes at the silver haired man who, seconds ago, tried to kill him in cold blood. "or: yuuri and victor meet





	

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back, back again--
> 
> it me
> 
> here's to all the people who asked me how victor and yuuri met :'>
> 
> read the tags pls!!!

❝ my heart is scarred

from all my sins ❞

 

-

 

  
_**THERE'S NO OTHER WAY**_ to say "Congratulations, you've made it as a mafia boss!" quite as powerfully as getting an assassin sent after you by a fellow boss, Yuuri thought as he peered down through his lashes at the silver haired man who, seconds ago, tried to kill him in cold blood. 

 

    _several hours earlier_  


  
Yuuri was fucking tired. He was tired physically, mentally, and probably spiritually as well. There was nothing he would have liked more than just shoving all the paperwork he still had to do off his desk violently and  _faceplanting_  into his bed. He'd ditched Phichit for the last time, however, and was about to suffer the consequences.

 

     "Yuuri Katsuki!" The door to his office swung open with a crash and Yuuri made a mad dash to hide all the _probably very illegal_  papers in the drawers of his desk.

 

     "Phichit! What are you doing here?" he asked casually, leaning on his desk. Or he tried to. His elbow slipped out from under him and he fell with a shriek out of his chair, landing with a thunk on the floor. "Meant to do that," he said weakly as Phichit hauled him up onto his feet.

 

     "Wow, I can't believe you just proved my point before I made my point!" Phichit said, that one smile on his face that spelled trouble and probably retraining orders. "We're going out; you've been in your office doing _whatever_  for _days now_. You promised. I'll cry. It'll be messy. You'll be very guilty."

 

     "I would love to, Phichit, but I just don't have the tim-- God, Phichit, no, please, stop, no, not the tears, please! Fine! Fine, you win!" He gestured wildly with his hands.

 

     Phichit instantly unscrunched his face. "Yay! Let's go; there's this new bar that I want to try and I promised myself that I wouldn't go without you but _wow_  has it been tempting!" He continued babbling about his day as he dragged Yuuri out of his office.

 

+++

 

     Yuuri ordered another drink with a groan as he watched Phichit charm the pants off yet another man, earning himself another free drink. His best friend was unfairly pretty, attracting admirers in unholy quantities, whereas the last time Yuuri had a date was somewhere along the lines of two years ago. As it turns out, not many men were tripping over themselves to date a man with two kids-- and that was the least of Yuuri's baggage. 

 

     "This seat taken?" a voice asked.

 

     Without looking up, Yuuri muttered, "Knock yourself out, buddy."

 

     "I think I'll need a couple more drinks before that happens," the voice said, dripping in amusement.

 

     Yuuri looked up to tell the person to screw off, and his breath caught in his throat. Sorry Phichit, but _damn!_  The man had long, silver hair tied up in a ponytail and gorgeous laughing blue eyes. Yuuri realized two seconds later he was fish-mouthing and snapped his mouth shut. The man laughed. "Buy me a drink?"

 

      _Holy shit, I'd buy you a new house if you asked me,_  Yuuri thought, but just blushed and waved down the bartender, gesturing with his fingers for another glass.

 

     "I'm Cameron," the man said, stretching a hand out.

 

     "Yuuri," Yuuri blurted out before he could stop himself, taking the offered hand. Cameron's hands were large and slightly rough from use, and _wow_ , Yuuri was praying his hands weren't all gross and sweaty.

 

     "That's a pretty name," Cameron said sweetly, "Is it a family name?"

 

     "No, uh, my mom just liked the sound of it, I guess," Yuuri said awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for his utter lack of coolness. 

 

     Cameron's drink came then, and Yuuri almost knocked it over trying to hand it to him, but Cameron just laughed again, eyes scrunching up. Yuuri wanted to die. _This is why you can't get dates, you fucking loser._  


  
"Wow, this is good, what is it?" Cameron asked. 

 

     "Oh, it's a screwdriver. Um, wow, probably should have gotten you something that _doesn't_ taste like Death's old socks," Yuuri said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

     "I'm from Russia; I can handle my vodka," Cameron said, accent thickening almost comically. Yuuri wanted to _swim_  in his voice.

 

     "I'm from Japan; I can't," Yuuri replied. "Probably why I'm drinking it. Long day." He downed his own glass in one paint-stripping swig.

 

     "I understand," Cameron said sympathetically, "Hey," he waved down the bartender, "Let me get a _яд_ for my friend and I, huh?"

 

     "A what?" Yuuri asked, brow furrowed.

 

     "You'll like it; it's my favorite drink," Cameron explained with a dazzling smile. Seconds later, the blond bartender set down two shot glasses with a soft yellow liquid in them. 

 

     "Bottoms up," Cameron said, throwing back his glass. Yuuri followed, tipping the liquid down his throat.

 

     At that moment, he realized four things: one, his drink was spiked; two, "Cameron" was not who he said he was; three, the bartender was definitely in on it, and four, Yuuri was very glad he took his antidotes today.

     

     "Wow, this is good; it's sweet," Yuuri said mildly, just as Phichit staggered over, clearly wasted.

 

     "Yuuuuuriiiiii," he said, throwing his arms around his neck and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Yuuri, you're my best friend, do you know that? I love you, Yuuri. You're the best, Yuuri. I love you, Yuuri."

 

     "Well, that's enough for you," Yuuri said, mentally calculating when he should start showing "symptoms." "I'll call you a cab."

 

     "You're so shhweet!" Phichit slurred. "Ishhn't he shweet?" he asked "Cameron."

 

     "Very," the man replied with a smile, eyes glinting as they watched Yuuri closely.

 

     The man came with Yuuri as he slapped down a handful of bills and bundled his best friend out of the bar and into an awaiting "cab." It was actually one of Yuuri's guards he'd posted to Phichit, but the less the boy knew about his, uh, _career choices_ , the better.

 

     As the car peeled away from the curb, Yuuri staggered and collapsed into the man's waiting arms, right on cue. "Oh! Sorry... must be a little... drunker than I thought," he said slowly, slurring his words ever so slightly.

 

     "Oh goodness," Cameron, or whatever his name actually was, replied. "Here, let me help you. My place is just around the corner, or I could call you a cab if you'd like? A pity that one just left."

  
_A real shame_. "Haha, s-sorry for the bother," Yuuri mumbled, sinking further into the man's arms.

 

     "No bother at all."

 

+++

 

     A couple years ago, Yuuri would have accepted aliens coming to the earth and abducting everyone sooner than he would have accepted the fact that he was currently standing in a very hot stranger's house who probably wanted to kill him, but here he was.

 

     "Here," the man said sweetly, offering Yuuri some water. Yuuri took the glass with a word of thanks and sipped at it. Yep, laced with the same drug. Honestly, were they even trying?

 

     Taking a risk, Yuuri dropped the glass. "Oops!" he said, bending down to grab it at the same time Cameron did. Their hands brushed and Cameron jolted like the slight touch had sent lightning up his spine. He glanced up, face inches away from Yuuri's.

 

     "Uh," he said, eyes flickering down before snapping back up.

 

     Yuuri closed the distance, smashing his lips to Cameron's with all the grace a heavily-drugged person would have. Cameron responded eagerly, looping an arm around Yuuri's neck and dragging him down. Yuuri clumsily groped around before setting one hand on Cameron's waist and lacing the other through his long, soft hair, pulling it loose from its tie.

 

     Cameron pulled away and started pressing sloppy kisses down Yuuri's jawline, biting gently. He pushed Yuuri down onto his back on the couch and crawled over him, straddling his hips before diving back down to attack Yuuri's mouth. It took a lot of willpower not to grind up against him, but Yuuri was focusing on other things, things that, sadly, did not involve his dick. Things like how to stay alive.

 

     "It's a shame," Cameron murmured against his mouth.

 

     "W-What is?" Yuuri panted, ignoring his friend downstairs who was starting to make an appearance.

 

     "You're just so _pretty_ ," Cameron said in a tone that implied he was pouting. Yuuri would have found that adorable if not for the current situation.

 

     "Thanks?"

 

     "It's not fair. All that pretty is just going to go to waste."

 

     "What?"

 

     Seemingly from nowhere, Cameron pushed a knife against Yuuri's throat. "Sorry. It's nothing personal, I swear. If it helps, I really liked kissing you."

 

     He lifted the knife ever so slightly to strike, but Yuuri did first.

 

     Yuuri jammed a knee upwards, flinging Cameron off his hips. The man crashed to the ground with an undignified sound but was up again within seconds. "How- you're not-"

 

     "Pro tip," Yuuri said, flipping the knife he'd snatched out of midair like a _fucking badass_. "If you're going to drug someone _before_  you kill them, you should make sure they're actually drugged. I'm not _that_  good of an actor, darling."

 

     "Go fuck yourself," Cameron snapped, eyes scanning him for weaknesses.

 

     "And for that compliment, I'll give you another pro tip. You should probably turn around. Oops, too late."

 

     Cameron had only started turning when Otabek slammed the butt of his pistol into the back of his head. Cameron collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, silver hair spreading outwards like a halo.

 

     "Hello, Otabek. Impeccable timing as usual," Yuuri said, smiling at his family member.

 

     Otabek smiled back.

 

_present_

 

     "So what are we going to be doing with him? I say we are mailing him back to his employer piece by itty-bitty piece."

 

     "Yuri, no."

 

     "Why you have to ruin all my fun?"

 

     "Shh, wait-- he's waking up. Shut up, let me do all the talking."

 

     Yuuri waited patiently as the silver haired man slowly stirred, eyes blinking open. "Oh," he muttered. "Fuck."

 

     "Yeah," Yuuri said sweetly, crossing one ankle over his knee. "That's probably an appropriate response to this situation."

 

     "If you're going to kill me, just get it over with," the man said, rolling his eyes as he subtly strained against the ropes tying him to the chair.

 

     "Hmm, no. First I have a couple questions I'd like to ask you. Let's start with a name."

 

     "I'll never talk," the man snarled, baring his teeth.

 

     "Oh no, darling. Not your employer's name. Not yet. I want _your_ name. It's obviously not Cameron," Yuuri said, reaching out and brushing a piece of silver hair behind his ear.

 

     "Mine?" for just a fraction of a second surprise flashed across the man's face, but it was gone the next second. "Why would you care?"

 

     "Because it's getting irritating calling you 'the man' in my head," Yuuri said, shrugging. Behind him, Yuri grumbled about how he could get him to talk in minutes while Otabek just stared quietly.

 

     The man said nothing. Yuuri sighed. "Worth a shot, I guess. I'll be back, darling." He stood up and went to leave the room. As he passed Otabek he murmured under his breath, "Keep both eyes on him. We'll see how he's feeling in a day or so."

 

     Otabek nodded. 

 

     Yuuri closed the door behind himself.

 

+++

 

     It took three days before the man finally was willing to talk. Yuuri sat in front of him, stroking his hair peacefully. "Ready to tell me your name, sweetheart?"

 

     The other man coughed quietly before saying so quietly Yuuri had to lean in to hear it, "It's Victor."

 

     "Excellent!" Yuuri clapped his hands together gleefully. "Yuri, grab a glass of water for Victor here, would you?"

 

     Yuri nodded, glaring at Victor as he left. He returned quickly, pressing a bottle of water into Yuuri's outstretched palm.

 

     "Here you go, darling. Sip, don't gulp," Yuuri purred as he poured cold water past Victor's dry, slightly open lips. "That's a good boy." He caught a bead of water that had dripped down the side of his mouth with his thumb and pressed it into Victor's mouth. "Waste not want not," he offered by way of explanation as Victor slowly licked the water off his finger.

 

     "Am I old enough to be watching this?" Yuri snapped, tossing his hands up as he witnessed the sickening display. 

 

     He was thoroughly ignored.

 

+++ 

 

     Victor was perplexed. In twenty-six years of life, no one had ever treated him with the kindness this mob boss he had attempted to _murder_ had, and a large part of him wanted to do whatever it took to please Yuuri, make Yuuri smile, make Yuuri smile at _him_ , but the other part itched at his mind like the scars his master gave him itched sometimes. 

 

     "Hi, Victor," Yuuri said sweetly as he opened the door. "I brought you something."

 

     Victor didn't remember the last time someone who wasn't a mark said that to him. _Yuuri still is a mark. Is a mark. Is a mark?_  


     Yuuri sat down in front of him and set a plastic bag down on the floor. "Come here, sweet thing," he said, reaching forward. Victor flinched--

 

\--and slowly opened his eyes when he felt the steel ropes binding his wrists together in intricate knots loosening. They'd done this before, untying him every now and then to massage feeling back into his joints and muscles. _When he was trained to get out of regular ropes, they left him upside down for hours until he thought he would go insane from the blood pounding violently against his temples._  


 

     Yuuri didn't tie him back up immediately, though. He just dropped the cord to the ground and held the bag out. "I figured you'd like to eat with your own hands, right?"

 

     At that moment, Victor thought Yuuri might have been an angel. 

 

+++

 

     "Why are you doing this?" Yuri asked the second Yuuri closed the door, balled up wrapper in one hand. 

 

     "Why am I doing what?" Yuuri tossed the wrapper in a bin, wiping his hand off on his expensive suit pants that three or so years ago would have paid his rent. 

 

     "You know what. Why you are-" Yuri gestured with a hand, "trying so hard. What do you want from this man? He tried to kill you!"

 

     Yuuri shrugged, "Maybe I just wanted a companion, no? I love my family dearly, but maybe I wanted a little something more from someone?"

 

     "He tried to _kill you_. Bang somebody else!" Yuri snapped, poking Yuuri in the chest. "You want to die?"

 

     "Yuri," he said calmly, gripping the angry teenager's hand in strong fingers, "have you spoken to Victor lately?"

 

     "Why would I speak to him," Yuri said with disgust. 

 

     "Try it sometime. I haven't been doing _nothing_ this past month." With that, Yuuri let go of his hand and walked off, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling a piece of cord. 

 

     Yuri glanced at the door, suddenly wondering what Yuuri _had_  been doing.

 

+++

 

     He found out when he opened the door to Yuuri's office a few days later, only to let out a sharp noise and draw his pistol when he spotted Victor sitting cross-legged on Yuuri's desk. 

 

     "Hello, Yuri. What did you need?" Yuuri asked calmly from where he was sitting at his desk, writing. 

 

     "What? He- he's- how?" Yuri sputtered, blond hair falling in front of one of his eyes.

 

     "Pass me that paper, darling, ah, thank you. Yuri! You've met Victor, haven't you?"

 

     "Yes, when he is trying to kill you, I met him," Yuri said, not lowering the gun.

 

     "Yuri, put that away; what have I said about threatening people in the house."

 

     Yuri glared, but slowly lowered the gun, shoving it back into its holster fussily. "Why is he not tied up? Or dead? Or dead and tied up?"

 

     "We've moved past such things," Yuuri said, reaching up and brushing hair out of Victor's eyes, who leaned into the touch. "I could never hurt my darling."

 

     "Hurt like he tried to hurt you? Beka, Beka look at this," he snapped, gesturing at Otabek who appeared at his side like a shadow. 

 

     "I trust Yuuri's judgment," Otabek said quietly, a hand resting on his pistol casually.

 

     "Trust Yuuri's-- am I the only one who is having problem with this? We should be slicing him into a hundred pieces and mailing him back to his employer! The second you are turning your back, you are dead!"

 

     "I would never hurt Yuuri," Victor said, brow furrowed.

 

     "Ah, right. Because a month ago you didn't try to _stab him to death_. I must have been thinking of wrong person," Yuri muttered.

 

     "Everybody makes mistakes. My Victor's already made up for his mistake, haven't you, darling?" Yuri said evenly.

 

     Victor almost purred at the praise.

 

     "What."

 

     "Victor, who told you to try to kill me?"

 

     "Othello de Gaulle."

 

     "Why?"

 

     "He said you were getting too big, that you were starting to interfere with his deals. He wanted you gone before you really started making a name for yourself."

 

     "And what did you do to him when I let you go?" Yuri made a strangled noise in his throat when Yuuri mentioned letting Victor go.

 

     "I cut his lungs out of his chest and mailed the body to his wife," Victor said mildly as if he was discussing the weather and not first-degree murder.

 

     "Good boy. You see, Yuri, Victor's made up for his mistakes. I'm all about second chances, aren't I?"

 

     And when Yuri looked from Victor's smitten face into Yuuri's dark eyes glittering with mirth, he realized for the first time how terrifying he really was.

**Author's Note:**

> hey if u wanna scream @ me, hit me up on tumblr here


End file.
